Faithful Paradox

I had the opportunity last night to have some one-on-one time with my youngest son. The rest of the family was away at various activities so we opted to go out to dinner, kid’s choice, and then for a drive. He wanted Chick-Fil-A, so we headed up for chicken sandwiches and were able to sit and chat.

Grief has been particularly hard for him over the past week. Grief is hard in that it comes in when it wants, stays as long as it desires, and leaves when it feels ready. It is no respecter of people or schedules. It simply barges into life on its own time schedule. Of course there could be some triggers this week; it seems there always are. October 14 is the day we had Ezra’s memorial service. I asked my son if that was heavy on his mind and he said no, not really. He also said, however, that he awoke on Monday (the 14th) deeply sad, feeling grief throughout his body. It’s so interesting how often, I think our bodies remember things before our minds are aware.

Regardless of what triggered his sadness this week, the fact remains that he has struggled. When my kids are in these spaces of struggle, I love when I can find pockets of time to connect with them. It’s easier one-on-one to ask them probing questions. Why do you think grief has been hard this week? What are you missing about Ezra? Is there anything that you want to talk about? How is your faith these days? Do you still feel like you are able to trust God, despite the loss you’ve experienced?

As we were driving after dinner, listening to music and chatting, I asked a few questions of my son. One thing he said to me was that he doesn’t understand why God allowed Ezra to suffer like he did. He doesn’t understand why God, who can speak a word and make all things better, chose not to and allowed Ezra to both suffer so terribly and then also die. He knows that God’s Word says he is good, but it’s also hard to understand how God is good in this. My initial response was, “I’ve really struggled with that too.”

So often, there seems to be this unspoken expectation that faith is easy and trusting God is easy. Yet my experience is that so often, faith is hard and trusting God is harder. It’s hard, maybe impossible, to reconcile how God is both good and yet horrible things happen. It’s hard to sit in the pain of God’s silence when we are hoping to experience his nearness. It’s hard to reach a point of saying, “not my will but yours” and have hearts that truly are able to submit to it. It’s hard.

I think as we work through our own pain, as we walk with others who are in pain, it’s okay to sit with them in confusion. It’s okay to admit we don’t have the answers. I think if we learn anything from Job’s friends, the best action we can take when someone is sitting in the ashes and ruin of loss is to sit with them, hands over mouth, weeping with those who weep.

Often we want to quickly jump to passages that might offer some hope; God is going to work this for good! God has good plans for you! God is in control! And while all these things are true, when we are in the midst of despair, these reminders can feel more like jabbing pins than hopeful words. The truth is, we know God will work all things together for good, but it is God who gets to determine the good, not us. The good that God may be up to is humbling someone to look more like Christ; a very good thing, and yet very painful. The good that God may be up to is banking faith that will extend into eternity, something we will never understand this side of eternity. The good that God may be up to could be among a myriad of things we may never understand and while we can trust that there will be good, it may not be good we can see or understand… yet.

As my son expressed his questions about God, my only response was to agree with him. I think it’s also okay, as parents, to admit we’ve struggled with faith as well. I used to hope that I could be an example of strong faith; that my unshakable belief would model for my kids and those around me who God was. The problem with this is that all fingers pointed to me, to my faith, to my view of God.

The longer I live, the more I’ve suffered, as I have unraveled and been left sitting in my own ashes, the more I realize that faith is hard. Trusting God is hard. It’s hard for a lot of people. And yet, when we fight for belief, fight to hold on to God even when things hurt and don’t make sense, that is truly where faith is born. Faith is trusting God, even when our experience of him seems counter to his word. Faith is holding onto what God has says is true, even when nothing about it feels true. Faith is surrendering the questions that threaten to derail our faith, trusting that somehow, I am not meant to know. Faith is believing that truly, God’s grace is enough because as we wrestle, it is his power that is being perfected as we become more and more acquainted with our weakness. My weakness comes in many forms, but it shows up particularly in weakness in faith, in doubting God.

It is in this weakness, however, that I can tell my son with great confidence, God has held me. There is no reason I still believe, and yet I do. And he’ll do the same for you. I think discipleship, especially of our children, starts with admitting our own weakness, our own shortcomings, our own failings and simultaneously pointing to God’s strength. It’s not having all the answers and being okay with that. It’s admitting that I had hoped God would do things differently and when he didn’t, it was hard for me. It’s confessing that I’ve struggled to trust God, but God has never struggled to hold on to me.

The longer I live, the more I know that it’s okay that I don’t have it all figured out and there’s such freedom that comes in this.